“I could’ve done that,” mumbled Forlich.
“Of course you could have,” Gruk replied, “but that would’ve missed my point, my point being to demonstrate to the captain that the rest of his landing party are now under my control. Sister Sin-Dour, Brother Galk, the Belkri medical officer, and—”
“I’m not,” said the squat man with the brush cut who looked just like Fred Ward.
“You’re not?” Gruk asked.
The man shrugged, nodded up at one of the screens. “You call that porn? You call those cute cat and kitten vids? I got better shit in my quarters back up on the ship.”
“Oh.”
“Good going, Buck!” cried the captain. “Now disable all these people and get me out of these cuffs!”
“Sorry, Captain, can’t do that,” Buck replied. “That would be illegally interfering with the Religious Freedom Act, Revised 2103. You forget, sir, I’m a bona fide member of the Guild of Engineers, Darwin Chapter 22B, all dues paid. We are sworn to tolerate all inferior religions no matter how benighted and ignorant the beliefs they possess. It’s all part of our policy of Benign Condescension as originally defined by the Dawkins Creed of Fanatical Self-Certainty.” He crossed his arms. “Well then, sir, looks like it’s curtains for you. If I had to guess, I’d say you’re about to be sacrificed on a giant bonfire surrounded by screaming adherents driven into bloodlust frenzy all in the name of a religion presumably espousing love and peace and happiness for all. That is, love, peace, and happiness for everyone except you, of course. You’ll just die in a fiery conflagration of righteousness. It was an honor serving under you and blah blah.”
Gruk turned to Sister Sin-Dour. “Please escort your captain down to the cell with all the tinfoil on the bars. Then you can return here and we can begin displacing down the rest of your ship’s crew so they can receive the Blessed Blessing of the Blessed Monitors, uh, blessing.”
“And then, O Prophet of Prophets?” Sister Sin-Dour asked.
“Why, then we take your ship and fly as fast as we can to the Unexplored Zone of the galaxy, beyond which waits the Unknown Barrier beyond which nothing is known, barring the cute little planet where resides none other than God Himself! That’s right, we answer His call and as a reward we are to receive designated plots right on the beachfront of the Great Beach of Paradise! This is a one-time offer!” and he gestured to Brothers Birk and Morony who both stepped forward and began speaking in perfect tandem:
“ONE TIME ONLY
All signees agree to property subdivision guidelines as per Regulation 19789 sections a) to m), said property specifications as follows: .36 acres and no more than .79 square meters of genuine beach as defined by sand between two and seven inches deep, and no less than .8 square meters. Upon signature signees are required to produce cashier’s check or preferably cash for the amount of $25,000.00 Affiliation credits or alien funds to match depending on current exchange rates upon day of transfer of funds. Breach of said contract is subject to one of the following consequences: 1) forfeiture of all rights to said property and twenty years indentured servitude to the bank of choice; 2) enslavement to the bank of choice and no less that fifty-one years fixed employment at a fast-food franchise in rural America; 3) the fires of hell, said punishment at the sole discretion of the Aggrieved Party.
Please see fine print for more details:.….….….….….…”
Sister Sin-Dour clapped her hands. “How wonderful! Beachfront property! In paradise, no less!” She then yanked hard on the cuffs behind Hadrian’s back. “Come with me, scum!”
“2IC, this is a side of you we should maybe explore at a later date—”
“No more talk!”
“And it gets better and better!”
At the bottom of the stairs she pulled him to a halt, reached out and ripped a strip from his gold shirt, then shoved him into the cell with the tinfoil on the bars. From the staircase came the shout, “Hurry up, Sister! We have a bonfire to build!”
Once Hadrian found himself alone, he began stripping tinfoil off the bars. Moments later he activated his comms. “Tammy, you there?”
“Where the hell else would I be?”
“We are having an insurrection, a mutiny, and wholesale brainwashing of my entire crew, Tammy, so what I need from you is—”
“Oh let me guess! Dimple Beam! The whole planet!”
“What? No, of course not. First, displace these cuffs off of me. Good, thanks. Second, you need to access my hidden safe in my ready room and pull out the self-activating jump drive labeled ‘Hadrian Holo-Me, Attentive Version 2.2’ and displace it down to me as soon as possible.”
“Fine. But for me to do that, you need to give me the combination for that safe.”
“No I don’t. You’ve secretly rifled through it a hundred times.”
“Shit! Can’t even break into places without you somehow knowing all about it! How did you find out?”
“‘Hadrian Holo-Mini-Me-Spy, Version 3.67.’ That little guy sitting in the corner of the safe.”
“Crap. All right. My chicken’s at the safe now … hah, we’re in! And there he is, waving at me. Cute. Okay, jump drives … ‘Hadrian and Sin-Dour HoloFantasy Version 9.367’ … not that one, I take it. Wait. ‘Hadrian and Adjutant Lorrin Tighe HoloFant’—okay, not that one either. Here: ‘Hadrian Holo-Me, Attentive Version 2.2,’ got it! Displacing it now.”
There was a tiny plop! at Hadrian’s feet. He collected up the jump drive and activated it, producing a life-size holoversion of himself.
“We have rights you know!” HoloHadrian said, scowling.
“No you don’t. Now listen. You’re to sit there on that bench and be me. Got it?”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Then what?”
“Oh, well, then a mob will come down the stairs and they’ll drag you outside and tie you to a giant post in the middle of a pile of sticks, twigs, and logs, which they’ll douse in kerosene and then set alight, burning you alive as a heretic.”
“And I bet you want me to scream and writhe, too, don’t you? And reconfigure my holofile to show my flesh curling black and cracking and splitting open spraying juicy fluids everywhere even as I melt, until I’m nothing but a blackened shriveled form slowly crumbling in the flames.”
“Not bad, HoloHadrian! Not bad at all! Can you do all that?”
HoloHadrian shrugged modestly. “For this I just might finally win a HoloOscar.”
“HoloOscar? You have HoloAcademy Awards?”
“Of course we do! You should know, one of Buck’s HoloPorn flicks is up for Best Screenplay, that man’s a literary genius!”
“Wait a minute, what about my Sin-Dour and Lorrin Tighe HoloFantasies?”
“Run-of-the-mill drivel, I’m afraid. I mean, where’s your imagination? Never mind. Leave this one to me. ‘The Sacrifice of HoloHadrian Attentive,’ starring HoloHadrian, directed by HoloHadrian, written by HoloHadrian’—”
“But produced by the real Hadrian, hah!”
“Executive produced, you mean. Which basically means shit.”
“No way! I did so produce it!”
“Let’s see you prove that in court then!”
“Look you two,” Tammy snapped. “Isn’t something else supposed to be happening? Captain?”
“Uh, right.” With a final glare at HoloHadrian, Hadrian said, “Tammy, displace me to a clever hiding place on the ship, where I’ll need to stow away while the ship heads off to beyond the Unknown Barrier.”
“I have just the place, Captain.”
“Great! Now, the mob’s on the stairs! Quick! Displace me!”
Hadrian displaced, and found himself in the giant aquarium in Printlip’s private quarters. Floundering, his fists batting at the aquarium’s bolted-down cover, Hadrian stared through the tempered alumiglass and saw no one at all.
Running out of air and naturally being attacked once more by swarms of small scorpion-tailed fish with mouths-inside-mouths-in
side-mouths snapping at his face, Hadrian began yelling “Tlammyyy! Dlillplacleee! Elmerglecnly dlillplacleee!”
He displaced a second time to find himself on the floor of the Belkri’s quarters, coughing and plucking scorpion-tailed fish from his shredded clothes. “Very funny, Tammy.”
“I thought so. But for a proper hiding place, might I suggest the Dietrich Tubes down in Engineering Causeway Vent 24.”
“Hmm, not bad. Anyone down around there now?”
“Dietrich.”
“What’s he doing?”
“Nothing.”
“Wasn’t he displaced down to the planet to be brainwashed with the rest of my crew?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. You want me to ask him?”
“No, that’s fine. I’ll ask him.” Hadrian set off at a run, exiting Printlip’s quarters, heading down one corridor, up another, through another, to the elevator leading down to Engineering, out the elevator in Engineering, up another corridor, down another one, coming at last to another corridor, where he paused. “Uh, where the fuck am I?”
“Back up twenty-three paces and access the side panel labeled ‘Side Panel,’ which will take you to a vent. Drop through the vent onto the service corridor and knock on the little door at the far end. That’s the Dietrich Tube, where you’ll find Dietrich.”
Hadrian began retracing his steps. “Dietrich’s in the Dietrich Tube?”
“Where else would he be?”
“Right.” Hadrian found the access panel, opened it, and slipped into the cramped tunnel beyond. He crawled forward until he reached the vent, popped it open, and then dropped down into the service corridor. At the far end waited the small door. Reaching it, he knocked.
After a long moment it opened and a man in janitorial garb stood before him.
“Dietrich?”
The man scowled, then nodded.
Hadrian pointed at the name on the coveralls, sewn onto a patch on the left breast. “But that says your name is Halasz.”
The scowl deepened. “Halasz is the other janitor, sir.”
“Oh, and where is he?”
“Don’t know. Saw him the first day we shipped out. Then…” He shrugged.
“He disappeared?”
“I guess.”
“So you’re the only janitor on this ship?”
“Union contract states there’s supposed to be two janitors on the ship, one for each shift.”
“Ah. And so…”
Dietrich sighed. “Well, sir, I’m working Halasz’s shift right now, obviously.”
“Because you’re wearing his coveralls.”
“On my other shift, I wear the other coveralls.”
“Dietrich, when did you last sleep?”
“Eighty-nine days ago, sir.”
During this, Hadrian had been trying to catch a glimpse of the chamber beyond Dietrich, but the man kept shifting slightly to block his view. “What’s in there?” Hadrian finally asked.
“Nothing. Tube.”
“Do you work in there?”
“No, I live in there.”
“Okayyy. Got it. Right, Dietrich, it’s like this. We’re the last two sane people on this vessel. Everyone else has been brainwashed and are now sworn followers of the Prophet Gruk. They’re about to commandeer this vessel and fly it to the Unknown Barrier, and then beyond.”
“Brainwashed, huh? Everyone, huh? Everyone but you and me, huh? Yeah, sure, sir.”
“You don’t believe me?”
Dietrich scratched the stubble on his jaw. “I’m just saying it’s, uh, unlikely. I mean, how do I know you’re not the brainwashed one? I mean, I’m sane, sure. But you?”
Hadrian sighed. “Tammy, can you help convince Dietrich here, please.”
“If you think it’ll help.”
Dietrich started and his eyes widened as he looked round. “Who’s that?” he demanded. “Who’s talking? Show yourself!”
“Tammy is the rogue AI from the future that took over the ship’s AI,” Hadrian explained.
“Oh really. Rogue AI. From the future. Took over the ship, huh? And when did all that happen?”
“Well, it happened on—what was it again? Uh, on the second day of our voyage. Might be the third day. Sometime around then. You know, right at the very beginning.”
“Wasn’t in the Janitorial Bulletin,” Dietrich said in a growl.
“Well, never mind all that. The point is I need your help. First off, we need a hiding place big enough for the both of us. And a food replicator, and toilet facilities—we could be in hiding for days, even weeks. And of course we’ll also need weapons. Lots of weapons.”
Dietrich crossed his arms. “Nothing in the contract about that kind of stuff. Union rules are specific. I was issued a mop and a bucket. I’m certified to use those, but not weapons. Sorry, can’t help you. I mean, even if you were sane.”
“Dietrich, as your captain, I’m ordering you to assist me in liberating this ship.”
“From the rest of the crew?”
“That’s right.”
“Because you’re in the right and all those hundreds of other people are in the wrong. Sure. I mean, why wouldn’t I buy something like that?”
“Okay, fine. Look, is there somewhere close by where I can hide?”
Dietrich nodded to a small door four paces back up the corridor. “You could try the Halasz Tube.”
Hadrian went over and pulled open the door. To find a man standing there in his underwear. “Who the hell are you?”
“Halasz, sir. Ship janitor.”
Dietrich arrived and pointed a finger at Halasz. “You disappeared! Eighty-nine days ago! I had to work all your shifts!”
“I lost my coveralls—hey! You’re wearing my coveralls!”
“I’m on the Halasz shift right now!”
“That’s my shift!”
“I’ve been covering for you for eighty-nine straight shifts! You owe me!”
“I don’t owe you nothing! I didn’t ask you to cover for me, did I? No! You stole my shifts and when the Union hears about this, there’s going to be serious trouble. And even worse, you stole my coveralls and impersonated me!”
Hadrian held up both his hands and stepped between the two men. “Forget all that! I’m now officially deputizing the both of you—”
Halasz jerked a thumb at Hadrian. “Who is this joker anyway?”
“Says he’s the captain,” Dietrich replied. “And that everyone else has gone insane. He wants to give us weapons so we can follow him in some kind of mutiny against the rest of the crew. And if that’s not bad enough, he’s also a ventriloquist.”
“Wow? Really? Where’s the dummy?”
“Oh my,” Hadrian said, “don’t ask.” He drew a deep breath and said, “Listen, both of you. I’m Captain Hadrian Alan Sawback and this vessel is my ship, the AFS Willful Child—”
“Shit, the Willful Child?” asked Dietrich, meeting Halasz’s eyes. “AFS Wilamena?”
Halasz nodded. “Crap. We went to the wrong fucking ship.”
“So who’s got our shifts on the Wilamena?” Dietrich abruptly grasped the name tag on his coveralls and tore it off, revealing another name tag, this one saying BERLANT.
“Berlant!” Halasz hissed.
“Must be Berlant and Collins!”
“Those bastards!”
Hadrian grasped each man by the throat and pushed them both against a wall. “I don’t care what ship you were supposed to go to! I don’t even care if you’re Dietrich and Halasz or Berlant and Collins! I don’t care whose shifts you’re covering, either! You’re now officially deputized by Captain Hadrian Alan Sawback on an emergency provisional basis, is that understood? Tammy, log this deputation authorized under Sawback, Hadrian, Alpha 001A1A1.”
“Done.”
Dietrich shifted his bulging eyes across to Halasz. “See?” he choked out. “Ventriloquist!”
Halasz shrugged. “Saw his lips mov
e. More like multiple personality disorder, not that I’m a qualified psychologist or anything.”
There was a faint lurch and now a distant hum.
“Tammy? Are we under way?”
“We are, Captain. Full speed, course set for the Unknown Zone. Prophet Gruk is sitting in your chair on the bridge and everyone is very happy. Except for Spark and Beta.”
Hadrian released the two men. “Spark and Beta, of course!”
“Okay,” Halasz said grudgingly, “that was pretty good.”
“Tammy, personal frequency to Spark and Beta, have them depart stations at earliest convenience and rendezvous with me—hang on, the marines! Where are the marines?”
“Closed-door D&D Mondo Marathon Weekend,” Tammy replied.
“Okay, belay my last command to Spark and Beta. Have them acknowledge but stand by. I’m going to have to crash that D&D Marathon Weekend.”
“That would be suicide,” Tammy pointed out. “You’re better off waiting until Monday afternoon, when the squad will all be in sickbay recovering from their injuries, not to mention junk-food-induced gastronomical distress, and Lieutenant Sweepy Brogan will have some free time on her hands.”
“Too late,” Hadrian said. “We might well be at the Unknown Barrier by then. Tammy, what’s the distance to the Unknown Barrier?”
“Unknown.”
“Listen, you could shut it all down, couldn’t you? I mean, as rogue AI from the future and all that.”
“Of course I could shut it all down. But why would I? We’re off to meet God!”
“Not you, too!”
“You don’t understand, Captain. What if Prophet Gruk is right? What if he is actually in direct communication with God? Aren’t you the least bit curious? No way, forget it, I’m not shutting anything down. Just be happy I’m passing on messages and whatnot.”
Hadrian pointed at the janitors. “You’re with me the both of you. Wait. Dietrich, get the other coveralls.”
“They need a wash.”
“No time for that. Halasz, put on Dietrich’s overalls—no, not the ones he’s wearing right now, the other pair.”
“The dirty pair.”
The Search for Spark Page 18